Dawn was well on its way, and there was no getting away from the fact that this was really happening. Tim was really, truly, lying in that hospital bed. I couldn’t imagine that away. I nodded as politely as possible at Carolyn, as if that would win me points. Her agitation was like a living thing, bright and hot, and it seemed to slap at me. I watched as she bolted from the room, and fought that same surge of bitterness all over again. I was alive with pettiness. It crawled over my skin like lice. I tamped it down and let her vanish down the hallway without comment. But the words I didn’t say, vicious and mean, clogged the back of my throat and lay on my tongue like metal. ‘How does he look?’ Dad asked quietly. ‘Hurt,’ I said, past the heaviness in my throat and chest, and my own great disappointment with myself. ‘He looks hurt.’ ‘Carolyn will feel much better once she sees him,’ Mom murmured, as if there had been some concern on that score. ‘For God’s sake, Roberta!’ Dad snapped, and I sensed more than saw the scowl he aimed at her, and her own tight little shrug in response.
